Everything is a pattern

23042012

Like the motif I spent the weekend painting on the wall, like the cycle of the fruit tree from which I am currently eating an orange, like the comets that come around earth once every 160 years, like it inevitably snows in April in Buffalo, like I’ll get up and go to work again tomorrow just like i did today, like the dread of picking up someone at the airport for the fear of the emergence of a pattern of secret baggage.

Now that I’ve learned that my pickup services are not required, I am not sure whether to feel better or worse. Perhaps it’s my mood and the weather trying to reach some sort of (wet, cold, slushy, grey) equilibrium.

Ultimately, does it matter? Patterns repeat but their frequency cannot be established until multiple points on a line start to show up. Maybe it’s once every 160 years and I won’t be here the next time around. Maybe it’s something already there that I can feel but cannot see.